There's An Old Saying
by DorianGray91
Summary: Oneshot. A sweet moment of comradely connection between Rory and the Time Lord. Just because I thought it was interesting that Rory the Roman was twice the Doctor's age, and the Doctor ought to know when he is not alone.


_Comfort the man_  
_Help him understand_  
_No memory_  
_No matter how sad_  
_No violence_  
_No matter how bad_  
_Can darken the heart_  
_Or tear it apart._

* * *

"The Shores of Einsfreid!"  
The TARDIS trilled and thrummed as she landed. Amy's hair bounced around her shoulders.  
"Go and see, then." the Doctor grinned lopsidedly, in doting tones.  
She darted away, flung the doors open, and squeaked in delight.  
"It's like Rio but _better_!"  
"Just be careful of the Mimsfids! They're the same colour as the water, and they don't like strangers.  
"What, scarlet?"  
"Here!" He tossed a packet of cheesy wotsits across the deck. "They love those. Just leave a handful at a safe distance and they'll let you alone."

She was wriggling out of her shorts and shirt, revealing a tasteful turquoise bikini, her expression incandescent.  
"I feel like the little mermaid. You guys hurry up!"

Then she was gone, just like a tearaway child.  
"Scottish." the Doctor muttered under his breath, but his face had fallen and hardened the moment she bolted. He spoke as though to himself, without pretence or enthusiasm.  
"Surely you don't find it tiring."  
It was Rory, also kitted out in beach shorts and flip flops – the Hawaiian blue patterns weren't quite as tasteful as Amy's choice.

The Doctor started, but assumed a jovial countenance once more.  
"Aren't you excited?"  
"Are you coming along?"  
"I'll be there in a few minutes." here the Time Lord's eyes darkened a little, and his voice became slow and throaty.

Rory waited a moment. "Amy thinks she knows you better than anyone, but I'm not off limits for _chats_."  
"You mean heart-to-hearts. Sorry, I don't do those. Not that I _need _one."  
"For a Time Lord you're a bad liar."

The Doctor turned slightly away, and huffed.  
"Sometimes I have bad days, Rory. That's just how things go."  
"There's that old saying about halving and sharing."  
"There's another old saying about Ponds minding their own business." he chided gently.

"That's not old. You just made it up."  
"Yes, well, I'm old enough to establish it as a saying just by _saying _it, aren't I."  
There was a bitter sound in this, as though he held something sharp on his tongue.  
Silence dipped over them.

The Time Lord leaned on his cream leather chair heavily, twisting his back to Rory altogether.  
"I am so - _old_, Rory. I'm a relic. A daft old man, just clinging on." He slid into the chair with a great weight pressing down upon his shoulders, bending his back and buckling his knees. As though his soul was crippling his springy, youthful body. "Watching her, sometimes it tires me out. Some days I just get tired."

There was a pause in which their breathing could be heard across the room. Then,  
"Some days I get tired too."  
The Doctor froze, and swept his hair out of his eyes to gaze at Rory.

"I haven't done all that reckless bouncing about like you." the Roman said quietly, "But I was still around for two thousand years. I remember it. The time passing without me. And there's an old saying or a new psychological theory, or something, that you become more exhausted by just sitting in one place than by running around your whole life."

Rory glanced behind him, at the red-haired girl waving from the red-foamed sea.  
"Maybe you should visit River more often." he murmured, "She'll wake you up if no-one else will."  
The Doctor smirked sadly. "It doesn't work quite like that."  
"Well. Maybe you'll surprise yourself."

Rory leaned down to grab his beach towel and a chunky bottle of sunscreen.  
"Coming?"

For a moment two pairs of ancient eyes met across the deck, serene blue and stormy green.  
A warmth seemed to spread across the Time Lord's features, remoulding the crinkles in the outer corners of his eyes and the lines of his wide smile.

"What are we slouching about for? Chop chop!"  
He danced from his chair like a creature sculpted from clouds or elastic – perhaps something of both – and had skidded out into the brilliant sunshine before Rory could blink.

They chased down the sands towards the waters, and the Doctor jumped right in with all of his clothes on.

It was going to be a magnificent day.


End file.
